For myself, the day had started off with unwanted drama at dawn, when I
was leading my horse Geronimo from the paddock, and my skittish young filly
kicked Geronimo in the leg, grazing it and causing him to limp. For the
next half hour, I was on tenterhooks, unsure if Geronimo's injury was
serious enough to make us non-starters, but fortunately he recovered
quickly, and my place in the ride was assured. So a little after 9am, as the
mounted group stood by the National Trail Commemorative Plaque, Gordon
Lyttle, rider organiser made a short farewell speech. With sunlight shafting
through the magnificent towering Mountain Ash gums, we disappeared from our
well wishers around the first bend on a ride that would test us all over the
coming weeks.

Riding along the Marysville firebreak, it was a very picturesque trail
lined with Woolly Butt gums, so we took the time to stretch the horses' legs
with a canter after the steep climb out of Healesville. Stopping at 'The
Birches' picnic area on Lady Talbot Drive, we were spoilt with a picnic
table and drop toilet. Most days, our lunch breaks are spent on the ground
amongst ant nests! The March flies and small bush flies at Keppel Hut were
totally unbearable. They were in our eyes and ears, and as soon as we opened
our mouths, they buzzed in ahead of our food. Frank, who had to don a pair
of stockings under his moleskins because of chafing, put his spare pantyhose
over his head to keep out the flies. The 4WD track out of Keppel Hut is now
a major highway for logging trucks. A bobcat, water truck and six gravel
trucks passed us on what was once a quiet 4WD track along the Bicentennial
National Trail. Gordon and Frank's horses stepped straight over a snake
sunning itself. My horse was about to step on it when Brian alerted me.
Turning, Gordon and Frank were astounded they had not seen the snake and my
heart missed a beat or two at my lucky escape.

We have washed and showered in some unusual places. Our solar shower bag
hanging off the back wall of a drop toilet was a rare luxury. It was better
than crouching on the side of a dirt road in all our glory, washing in a
bucket filled from a cold spring gushing from the embankment. The four guys
sitting in a river, razors in one hand and mirrors in the other also made a
memorable picture. But a wash by any name will make you smell sweeter on the
hot and dusty trail!

The back up driver for Brian and I, Jenny Cooper, celebrated her 41st
birthday on February 3rd. She is driving a Toyota Troop Carrier the entire
distance, meeting the two of us each afternoon with gourmet food, horse feed
and bedding. Gordon, Frank and Gary have had four back up drivers in
succession for the trip. On our way from Big River to Knockwood we took a
wrong turn, but a kilometer later we chanced upon a disused mine. Weren't we
excited to discover the old railway line still intact, and the mine shaft
entrance still open!

The trek up Lazarini Spur was so steep we had to dismount, hold the
horses' tails and allow them to drag us up the hills. We figured it is
easier to pull something than carry it. This system was then used up many
mountains. We have dismounted and walked our horses for countless weary
kilometers to give their backs a break. Most of the going is tough, with
rocks underfoot and the hot summer sun beating down on us. I dropped my
sunglasses in Snake Creek, beyond the Goulburn River. I immediately took off
my boots and socks, climbed off Geronimo midstream, retrieved the sunnies,
then climbed back into the saddle to replace my socks and boots. By
Macalister River, Jenny, Brian and I were almost out of fresh drinking
water, so decided to boil river water for the following day's supply. It was
boiled in a tin bucket and left to cool overnight. Next morning, water
bottles filled, we set off to ride up the dreaded Butcher Country Track, a
total distance that day of 37 kilometers. When thirsty, we took a welcome
swig at the bottles, only to spit it straight out again. We were now faced
with a long hard, hot day with rusty drinking water! Half way along and very
thirsty, we came across a dam with clear water, so refilled with dam water
and somehow made it to Howitt Hut, a nine and a half hour day in the saddle.

My husband Jason and three friends from the Melbourne Trail Horse Riders
Club drove to Howitt Hut for a visit. Jason was there to celebrate our sixth
wedding anniversary on February 11, before I headed into Wonnangatta with
the other riders. Half way down Dry River Track into Wonnangatta, Frank
had to dismount Playboy, as his saddle nearly slipped over the horse's head
- he had no more holes left in the girth!

Gordon's brother David, who was driving backup for the guys on the third
week, had been trying to no avail to catch a fish at every opportunity.
Jenny showed him up when she went to the river at Pioneer Racecourse for
water for the horses, and unbeknown to her, brought back an inch long fish
in the bucket. Riding into Talbotville, an old abandoned goldfields township
past Crooked River, we found that little remains. A big grassy flat beside
the river, with large old fig, apple, plum and pear trees. All the lower
branches had been stripped of fruit by tourists on foot, but we were lucky
on horseback to be able to ride straight up to a delicious fresh fruit
smorgasbord! At the old ghost town of Grant, we explored the start of the
Jewellers Shop Mine, one of many old mine adits cut into the side of the
mountain.

In the township of Dargo, we were asked by the school teacher if a couple
of us would go and talk to the class of eight children, ranging from prep to
year seven. Gordon, Frank and I spent 45 minutes telling the teacher and
children, who were most interested, who we were and what we were doing. In
Dargo we were joined by two more riders, Jean and Cathy who travelled with
us through to Canberra.

Sitting beside the campfire at Livingstone Creek, I looked up to see a
brilliant shooting star moving across the night sky, with a beautiful tail
flowing back behind it. Out here in the bush with your horse, on the
Bicentennial National Trail, is definitely the most wonderful place to be!

Back in the saddle after a rest day in Omeo our first nights stop was
Bindi Station on the Tambo River, one of Victoria' oldest properties, dating
back to the middle of last century. After days and days of bush riding, the
open pastures looked spectacular with the warm afternoon sun shining down on
them. The present owners have restored many of the old buildings and planted
garden beds full of roses. Coming out of the bush to look down over the
sheep paddocks at the homestead site, was like finding an oasis in the
desert.

The following day we headed to Hells Gates. A very steep climb down a
mountain side on a rocky old 4WD track to the Tambo River and then a very
steep and hard going climb out the other side for the horses. From whichever
side you traveled into it, it must be what going down into hell is like.
Riding over the snow plains out of Brumby hill, the horse's hooves left a
hollow sound below them. The trails lined with snow gums made a very pretty
and spectacular sight. We were on the lookout for brumbies, and knew they
were around by the large mounds of manure on the ground, piled high to mark
their territory. Up ahead in the clearing four brumbies were spotted, and
the chase was on. Of course, it was to the brumbies advantage that they
lived there, and could trail blaze through the bush. We had to stick to the
main tracks, so the chase was short lived. Something to talk about for some
time afterwards was a dead horse lying beside the track. It looked like it
had only been there about a week and had horse shoes on it, which meant it
wasn't a brumby, but whose was it? We were never to find out. Wild dogs had
had a feast on it and the stench was unbearable. Unfortunately all a part of
trail riding.

Limestone Creek was a very interesting place to camp with caves in the
rock face, all numbered by markers for cave adventurers. We weren't that
game, and only went in a short way to enjoy the cool air offered by the
caves. It was here that our back up driver Jenny Cooper found Trigger, a
brumby's skull which she tied to her bullbar. Trigger was then a part of the
team and traveled all the way to Canberra with us. We were awakened one
morning to the sound of a wild dog howling not too far away. Crawling deeper
into my swag, I enjoyed his cries, but prayed he didn't come closer. At Connley's hut on the Buckwong Creek we met Rusty Connley, an old cattleman
of the high country. He was out mustering his cattle and had some very
interesting stories to tell us. The funniest was when he came back from
moving some cattle that very evening, and told us that he had just fallen
off his stead. Upon reaching the Murray River and our campsite one
afternoon, the sun was shining down on us warmly as it did so many times
along our journey. We donned our bathers for a swim, but the water was icy
cold. However it was a relief from the heat and our long riding pants, so we
braved the chilly water to cool off.

We rode through Tom Groggin Station the following morning, on the banks
of the Murray River, and crossed the bridge into New South Wales at their
front gate. Later that day on the banks of the Swamp Plain River near Geehi
Hut, kangaroos were awoken by our noise, and leapt up out of the long grass.
Gordon's horse Gil turned sharply. He knocked into Gary horse Skye as he
also swung quickly around, causing Gary to come off and hit his head on his
horse's bridle, leaving a big cut and black eye to his face. Our first view
of the Khancoban pondage was a magnificent site. The blue shimmering of the
water against the greeny grey landscape of the surrounding mountains. The
next day, Brian, Jenny and I swum in the pondage which is used to cool the
turbines for the electricity plant in Khancoban. This takes the chill off
the water and was just glorious to paddle around in. A trip into Corryong by
car, back in Victoria, to the supermarket stocked us up on food and at the
grain store we replenished our horse feed. A must for us in Corryong was to
visit the gravesite of Jack Riley, the original "Man from Snowy River".

Riding out of Khancoban at 9am, with Bruce on his horse Billy and Debbie
on her horse Smokey now in tow we once again gained beautiful views of the
pondage. The day was hot and by lunchtime beside the Yellow Bog Creek, some
of us decided it was time for a swim. The water was very cold, as the creek
ran beneath the shade of overhanging trees and never saw sunlight, but it
helped to cool us off. We arrived at camp that night at 7pm, our longest day
in the saddle for the whole trip, amongst the thunder and lightening and
rain which was falling. Kathy, Jean and Frank hadn't packed their drizabones
that day, as the temperature had started off very hot. But everyday for the
whole trip, Brian and I packed bathers incase we got the opportunity to swim
at lunch time, as well as a drizabone and water proof pants incase it
rained. As quoted by Frank "Up there, you just never knew what was going to
happen". Crossing the Tumut River we rode passed Happy Jacks Pondage and
the surge shaft for the Snowy Mountains Hydro Electricity Scheme. From here
we went into an area where only horses, bush walkers, and the Electricity
Scheme workers vehicles are allowed to go. What a shame the rest of the
world cannot see the magnificent snow plains with creeks running through
them and large rocks adding to the scenery. I have never seen this sort of
countryside before, but it reminded me of the desert in Arizona, except for
snow grass instead of red desert sand. The tree life in this area was few
and far between with a variety of grasses giving the landscape a very
unusual look.

Saturday 3rd March was my birthday, and what better way to spend it than
riding from our camp spot on the Eucumbene River to Yaouk. One of the best
days of riding we had, with glorious bridal trails winding their way through
the trees. The ground under foot was soft, not like the days and days we
spent on hard rocky tracks, and it gave us a chance to stretch the horses
legs in a canter. We were met at Wears Camp Horse Yards by 74 year old John
from Tasmania who had hired a horse to ride the rest of the way into
Canberra with us. John is on the committee of the Tasmanian Trail - 480km
long - so guess where our next trip might be to! That night in Yaouk, a
get together was put on for us by Peter Cochrane the mayor of Cooma, and his
family, with a spit roast dinner and music. Many other people riding the
National Trail had organised to meet up at his property that night. They
included a group from Batemans Bay and another N.S.W. group who were
pack horsing through from Omeo to Canberra a week ahead of us. A guy who
packed horse through from Healesville to Canberra two weeks in front of us,
had reached Canberra, and then got a lift back for the night. A group from
Queensland who had come down and hired horses from Yaouk to ride through to
Canberra. And a couple on their way down from Cooktown, the start of the
Bicentennial National Trail, with two riding horses and three packhorses
heading to Healesville. They had been on the trail for two years so far.
What a great bush birthday I had.

Another early morning wake up call, was to the sound of kookaburras in
the tree, directly above our swags. Snakes were a plenty along the trails.
Many cattlemen's huts were come across over the whole trip, and it was
really interesting to have a look inside them. Parks Victoria are now
looking after most of these and they are well maintained, some even with new
drop loos outside. A group of wild pigs had the horses snorting in disgust
at these unusual creatures. What a sight to see them trot off across the
plains. Apart from the couple heading down the trail, the rest of the
riders, were all on the same mission. To reach Canberra by Saturday the 10th
March to take part in a street parade to celebrate the Centenary of
Federation. So each night at camp we would meet up with some, or all of the
other riders, depending on their schedule, when they were having rest days,
or when we were, or if they rode the National Trail or took shortcuts.
When we reached a place called Cuppacumalong, just 38km south of Canberra,
it was decided to truck the horses into the show grounds on the northern
side of Canberra. The trail which was mapped out over 12 years ago, now
travels across bitumen roads and through housing estates. Hopefully in the
near future someone will remap it. But for now, we took the safe option.
Arriving at the show grounds in Canberra by truck, the horses were settled
into their very fancy stables for the night, to be ready for our big parade
the following morning.

We were suppose to take part in the Centenary of Federation parade in the
afternoon, but the organisers decided that they only wanted 10 horses. We
said it is all or nothing, so we organised our own parade with police
escorts in the morning. At 9.30am the police cars arrived and 43 riders, 55
horses and 1 mule set off down the main street of Canberra to do a loop
around the roundabout and then head back to the show grounds. The procession
took just on two hours, and it was magical to look back on all those horses
marching the streets of our Nations Capital. We were proud to have our own
parade, and support horses in their endeavour to still be recognised as a
means of transport in Australia after so many years.

My trip was absolutely amazing. The best ride I have ever done, although
it was hard. The tracks weren't nice bridal trails like I expected, most
were old 4WD tracks. Most were stony and rocky and hard on the horses feet.
And hills like I have never ridden before. From here to Canberra it is
all uphill. We just climbed up and up, and then an occasional down, and then
up again. And so very steep. At many times we got off to lead the horses to
give their backs a break, and also we didn't know what was ahead of us, so
we wanted to spare them to make the journey. At other times we were walking
behind the horses hanging on to their tails and letting them pull us up the
very steep hills. We figured it is easier to pull something than carry it,
so pull us they did. I don't know whether I would ever do it again, although
if the circumstances were right, I probably would, but I would be better
prepared. Like being fitter myself. Although I consider myself fairly fit,
put me up a few hills and things change, so you really need to practice hill
climbing. Also we got our horses fit trotting and cantering them. We spent
most of the trip walking, due to the horrible surfaces under the horses
feet. So we really needed to go out and train them for 8 hours of walking,
not 4 hours of trotting. We spent sometimes up to 10 hours a day travelling
to our next nights camp, which is a long time in the saddle. Averaging 5km
an hour, which really is slow. Once we reached the NSW border, the tracks
improved and became nicer bridal trails or country lanes. I have read quite
a few books and watched a couple of videos on the National Trail and they
all say the same thing: that the Victorian section is the hardest. So if I
have done that then the rest of the way should be easier. If I am ever
allowed to go and do more of it.

I wouldn't have swapped doing the trip for anything, it was such an
experience. We slept in our swags every night except for two, when we stayed
in a back packers. However when I unrolled my swag to get my sleeping bag
out, I just climbed into my swag, instead of putting the sleeping bag on the
bed, so I actually spent every night in my swag for 41 nights. There were
so many wonderful things that we saw and did. The views were spectacular,
the river crossings exciting, just the feeling of being out there, riding
that distance was amazing. When we finally arrived in Canberra it was very
depressing and I really didn't want to come home. I could of just kept
riding all the way to Cooktown. Maybe one day I will get my wish. I kept a
diary, but some days, I was so tired I couldn't be bothered writing, and
then I had to try and catch up. I also took 3 hours of video and eight rolls
of film.

So we made it after 40 days, 950km and 180 hours in the saddle. I would
like to keep riding the other 4380 km to Cooktown in northern Queensland,
but I will have to leave that for another trip.